Hamish sat down on a leather armchair, which welcomed him with the usual rude sound.
“Can you remember any calls?” he asked.
“Nothing in particular.”
“It would have come from someone who sounded like Mark-a young person.”
“There was a call to be put through to town planning-that was a woman-and one for health and safety-that was a man, not young-and one for waste disposal. The one for waste disposal sounded young. That’s all I can remember.”
Hamish took out his notebook and checked it. “Waste disposal. That would be Percy Stane.”
“Yes, that’s him.”
“Did any of the callers ask for anyone by name?”
“No, just the department.”
“Not many people would know how to operate an old-fashioned switchboard like the one at the town hall.”
“I was a secretary at the town hall before I married my husband. I used to fill in on the switchboard. If you have no more questions, I may warn you,” she said as Hamish headed for the door, “that my husband has already reported you to Superintendent Daviot.”
“Oh, good,” said Hamish, and he left her staring after him.
Hamish went to the town hall and walked into Percy Stane’s office. Percy looked up at him, his eyes wide with fear like a trapped animal’s.
“I’ve told you all I know,” he blurted out.
“There might be something you have forgotten,” said Hamish. “Look, try to remember the day Mark Lussie died. Did you get a phone call?”
“I didn’t know him all that well. I wouldn’t know his voice.”
Percy wrinkled his brow in thought. Then his face cleared. “There was the one call. When I said, ‘Waste Disposal,’ the voice said, ‘Wrong department. Put me back to the switchboard.’ ”
“Man or woman?”
“A man. Maybe young. He didn’t say which department he really wanted.”
“Keep thinking about it and if you remember anything at all, here’s my card. Give me a call. Do you know if the provost is in his office?”
“He’ll be at the bank.”
Hamish walked out to the main street and along to the West Highland Bank where Gareth Tarry, the provost, was the manager.
He was told to wait. Hamish waited and waited. He wondered whether the provost was really busy or simply one of those irritating people who like to show off their authority.
At last, he was ushered in. “I’m very busy, Sergeant,” he said, “and I don’t see how I can be of any help to you.”
“How come Annie Fleming was elected Lammas queen two years running?”
“It was put to a vote. A secret ballot. There are ten councillors and all of them voted for Annie.”
“That’s odd, considering some of them hae daughters of their own.”
“I can prove it! I still have the ballot papers.”
“Where?” asked Hamish. “At the town hall?”
“No, in my safe here. Wait a moment. I just shoved the box in there. I’m more here than at the town hall and so I keep a lot of official stuff in the safe.”
He rose, went to a large safe in a corner of his office, and fiddled with the combination. He bent down and scrabbled about on the inside, finally lifting out a square wooden box with a slot in the top. “I need the key,” he muttered. He went to his desk and searched through the drawers, finally producing a small brass key.
He placed the box on his desk and unlocked it. “See for yourself.”
Hamish took out several of the folded ballot papers and opened them. His eyebrows rose up to his hairline in surprise. “These are all typed! That’s odd. You’d think they’d just scribble a name. Why go to the bother of typing it? Did you vote?”
“No, I never vote unless a casting vote is needed.”
“Weren’t the councillors surprised when you said the vote was unanimous?”
“I simply told them that Annie had been voted for.”
“Who’s the nearest councillor to here?”
“There’s Garry Herriot. He runs the ironmonger.”
Garry Herriot was a small, prim man dressed in a brown overall. He had very pale grey eyes.
“Mr. Herriot,” Hamish began, “can you tell me who you voted for to be Lammas queen last year?”
“I voted for Iona, the lassie on the switchboard.”
“Would it surprise you to learn that all ten votes were for Annie Fleming?”
“Yes, it would. I happen to know of two others who voted for Iona. What happened?”
“One of you got into that ballot box and put in a list of typed votes for Annie. Did you type yours?”
“No, I just wrote Iona ’s name on the slip of paper and popped it in the box. But the box was on the provost’s desk and it was locked.”
“Did the provost count out the votes in front of you all?”
“No, he just said Annie had been voted again. We all assumed she’d got the majority of votes.”
“The provost can’t be in the town hall all the time. He must spend most of the day at the bank.”
“His secretary, Alice Menzies, handles all the phone calls and things like that.”
Hamish went back to the town hall and got directions to Alice Menzies’s room. He wondered whether Alice would turn out to be some other highland beauty whose nose had been put out of joint by Annie. But she turned out to be a middle-aged woman in a tweed suit and wearing thick spectacles. Hamish told her about the ballot papers.
“That’s awful,” she said. “But you can stop looking for the culprit. I know who did it.”
At last, thought Hamish.
“It was Annie herself,” said Alice. “She came up here just before the ballots were due to be counted. She said she had an appointment with Mr. Tarry. I told her to go along to the bank but she said the provost had told her to wait in the town hall office. I let her in. She was only there a short time and then she came out and said she must have made a mistake.”
“Where is the key to the ballot box kept? I know the provost locked it up in the safe in the bank.”
“You’ll never believe this. The key was kept in a top drawer of his desk. Annie could have taken it out and unlocked the box.”
“And didn’t you think to report this when the vote was announced?”
She shrugged. “I was so used to all the men drooling over Annie, I didn’t really bother about it.”
“Why did Mr. Tarry take the ballot box to the bank?”
“It was right after the Lammas fair. His office was being decorated. He took a lot of files and the ballot box along to the bank.”
“Were any of the councillors particularly interested in Annie?”
“I don’t know. I mean, she didn’t work here.”
“What did Mr. Tarry say when you told him about her calling here for an interview?”
“It slipped my mind. The appointment wasn’t down in the diary.”
